


Love?

by klaviergavout



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Gen, Introspection, imagining hatchy singing that is the best ok, totally didn't listen to what is love while editing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 04:33:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7920625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klaviergavout/pseuds/klaviergavout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hatchworth takes a look into what love really means, and finds it harder to answer than any question he's ever asked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love?

Hatchworth just didn't understand it. He had spent hours and hours watching, calculating, analysing, but he was never able to come to any conclusions. Sure, he had asked the Walters many times what love really meant, but everyone either had a different answer to the others, or couldn't decide on an answer at all.

 _Yes,_ thought the bronze automaton often to himself, grinning widely as he struck upon a revelation, I know what love is. _I love sandwiches, and badgers, and The Spine and Rabbit, and moustaches, and pie, and sunny days, and my bass._ That kind of love was a love that made the corners of his mouth direct upwards at a slightly raised angle, a love that caused his boiler to simmer slowly and calm in his chest, a love that made him feel completely at peace with the world around him- a love that made him _feel,_ full stop.

But then, he often told himself, dashing his own hopes of securing any answers, he had seen love shown in different ways.

He had seen love that made The Spine enter through the front door with a spring in his step and bouquet in hand, and thought it impossible to be the same love that made Rabbit weep bitterly at night with soft cries of _Julia, Julia, come back, don't leave me here alone again._ He had seen love in the eyes of his father- no, no, his _creator,_ not his father, they had told him not to say that- whilst being fixed up and built with gentle hands, and yet he had also seen love in the eyes of his family as they shut him up for 72 years with a broken heart and a broken core.

He had heard love in the dying breaths of American soldiers on foreign soil, and he had heard love in the shouts and cheers of the audience as the steam man band performed their shows. He had heard love in the popular tunes on the radio, vibrant phrases declaring vague affection to the masses, and even then he had heard love in the quiet melodies pushed to the back of his mind, failed ideas that were remembered often and with some sense of shame.

He had felt love through the cold metallic hands of his siblings intertwined with his, and through the dull vibrations of his core, and through the touch of the plectrum he held as soporific notes flowed forth from his instruments. He had noticed that love came differently in each and every situation, and just couldn't understand _why._ For something that plagued his life as much as this 'love' situation did, it was so _human,_ and so insanely confusing.

Hatchworth just didn't understand it, and the way things seemed to be going, he never would.

And so, with a contented and curious smile on his face, he endeavoured to ask the Walters again.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry that this is a bit shorter than usual! I'm trying to get back into writing more, and after the Lincoln Steampunk Festival and Quintessential's upcoming release, I've regained some SPG motivation. More stuff'll be coming your way soon.


End file.
